


Smoked

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam eyed the barbecue sauce, quirking his lips into a smirk. He swiped his finger through it while Dean watched, then held his gaze while he licked and sucked it clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoked

“I’m not eating burgers again, Dean.”

Yeah, it was about time for this to start. Sam had been back for a few weeks and the initial grace period was over. Dean knew his “little” brother was humoring him by letting him bring home burgers, fries, pizzas, sodas, anything with a ton of calories, like forcing Sam to gain ten pounds would root him in the world. He’d done the same thing after Dean sold his soul, allowing himself to be fed while Dean watched, weighing every bite.

Both of them knowing it was really Dean who was being coddled.

“All right, fine.” He offered the gesture of tossing Sam the keys, read the flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. “Just don’t bring me a salad. I don’t wanna eat anything that didn’t have a mother.”

Sam smirked and he knew he’d walked into something. “Well actually, Dean, did you know that a lot of plants reproduce sexually? Pollen serves the same purpose as sperm, so--”

“Damn it, Sam, get outta here before I change my mind!” Shit. He didn’t want to think about oak trees spraying money shots all over his baby’s paint job, but that thought was definitely lodged in his brain now. He was still frozen in the middle of the room, cringing, when Sam laughed his way out the door.

\---

He had the guns spread out on one of the beds, organized by caliber and ready to be cleaned, when Sam entered the room with carryout that smelled so fucking delicious Dean practically levitated over to take the bags out of his hands.

“Dude, did you get ribs?”

Sam’s amused “yeah” barely registered. Initial recon revealed broccoli, which Dean ignored, and packets of utensils, which he also ignored. He shoved past a Sam-sized fistful of wet naps to be stashed in the glove compartment for cleaning wounds on the road and then, finally, under everything else, four styrofoam containers with a half-rack of steaming, spicy, falling-off-the-bone baby back ribs in each.

“Okay, I give,” he said, settling on one side of the table while Sam settled on the other. “No more burgers. From now on, we eat our meat off the bone.”

“Deal.” Sam dished out the food, swatting Dean’s hands away when he would have dug in straight out of the containers. There was sauce on the side so Sam could enjoy his low-carb Texas dry rub while Dean enjoyed ribs the way God intended, dripping and messy and not with freaking broccoli on the side, Jesus.

“Maybe next time I should bring you a bib.”

He stopped inhaling his food long enough to glare pointedly at Sam’s clean hands eating ribs with a knife and fork. “Did you run away to Stanford or to finishing school?”

“Dean, come on. We eat off our laps ninety percent of the time. Maybe I just appreciate the novelty of having plates.”

“No, _you_ come on, Sam.” He slid the sauce into the middle of the table. “If you wanted to play house you should’ve gotten pasta or something.”

Sam eyed the sauce, quirking his lips into a smirk. He swiped his finger through it while Dean watched, then held his gaze while he licked and sucked it clean.

Dean ate the rest of his ribs dry.

Sam didn’t say anything while he washed his hands and shrugged out of his clothes. He’d been back long enough that his farmer’s tan had returned, dark bronze arms from whatever the hell soulless Sam had been up to (nude sunbathing apparently?) fading to his normal pale gold torso and legs. He stretched out just as quietly on the empty bed, face down, only breathing a satisfied hum when Dean settled between his thighs, fully clothed with the leftover barbecue sauce in his hand.

The sauce was surprisingly easy to control and soon Sam’s back was covered in sigils, each one incomplete to make sure they didn’t wind up summoning the demon Acathla or anything. He centered the Blue Oyster Cult logo between his shoulder blades and chuckled when Sam told him it was actually the alchemy symbol for lead, a heavy metal. He knew Sam was tracking every stroke and could identify each symbol Dean had drawn, without even looking.

He shifted lower, painting five- and seven-pointed stars over Sam’s ass and down the backs of his thighs. Neither he nor Sam had a lot of body hair, which made it easy to keep his lines neat and even. It also helped that Sam kept himself so still, barely flinching when Dean tickled the backs of his knees.

When the sauce was gone he sat back on his heels to survey his work. Barbecue was a good color for Sam, he decided, not that he’d ever say that out loud. His eyes lingered on the bare patch he’d left in the small of his back, where Jake’s scar used to be. Of all the nicks and blemishes that had disappeared from Sam’s skin when he came back from hell, that was one he didn’t miss.

“Dean.” The younger man squirmed, layers of muscle rippling so pretty that Dean sucked in a breath, swallowing drool. “It’s starting to sting.”

He grinned and took his sweet time shifting further down the bed, almost to the edge. “Too hot for you, Sammy?”

“Dean,” he said again, turning so Dean could see the bare desperation in his eyes. “Please.”

Sooner or later, his little brother always got his way.

He licked a clean streak up the back of Sam’s thigh and it was sweet salty tangy spicy and every other good thing in the world, all at the same time. Powerful muscle shifted under his tongue. Sam worked on himself the same way Dean worked on the Impala, taking comfort in the rituals and pride in the results. It blew his mind the way Sam just kept packing it on every time Dean was sure he couldn’t possibly get any bigger.

He scraped his teeth up the meaty underside of Sam’s ass and got a deep groan in thanks. Sam’s skin got saltier as he went on, a sheen of sweat blurring his lines and making the sauce taste better and better. He sucked the rest of it off his ass and thighs with loud, messy smacks that had Sam rocking his hips into the cheap polyester covers, only stilling when Dean bit down on the crease where his leg met his butt and held with even, warning pressure.

“S-sorry. Fuck.”

Wide, sweeping licks up his flanks, pressing hard with his tongue, trying to find the bones buried under all that flesh, pausing to worry all the nerve clusters that set Sam shivering. There was one midway up his spine that made all his muscles seize up tight and Dean lingered there, sucking up a nice, dark hickey while Sam’s grunts dialed up into a keening whine.

“Dean, _fuck_ , Dean...”

He let go and flicked the bruise he’d just left. “Easy, Sam, we’re just getting started.” He ran his hands over Sam’s thighs to grip the full globes of his ass, spreading them apart and holding there while he leaned forward to lick and scrape and suck the last of the sauce from Sam’s shoulders. He left one more hickey at the nape of his neck where the ends of his overgrown hair had gotten sticky with sauce, savoring the sweet, tangy goodness while Sam’s ass flexed under his palms. He caught the last of the sauce on his tongue and held it there while he turned Sam over, swinging his huge heavy leg up and around so he could nestle up close between his thighs. He knew his jeans would be too rough but he ground down hard anyway, pushing the medley of smoke and vinegar past his brother’s lips to make him choke on his moan. Sam immediately shoved his hands under Dean’s shirts, sucking every bit of sauce from his tongue before licking his lips, just as thoroughly.

Dean waited for him to finish, then said, “Suck me.”

“Yeah.”

They’d figured out that the best way to do this was if he sat and Sam knelt on the floor--Sam’s stupidly long legs dangled too much if they were both on the bed. It would theoretically work just as well if Dean stood, but standing and having Sam’s mouth on him was a little precarious in practice. This way it was easier to brace himself on one hand and dig his other into Sam’s hair, flexing his fingers in anticipation while Sam took his sweet time getting his fly open with just his teeth.

“God, Sam, you’re such a freak.”

Sam just raised an eyebrow and opened up and _fuck_ , his mouth always looked so small but it spread open so wide, swallowing Dean with the ease of practice. He’d never understood why Sam loved this so much but he really fucking did, mouth watering hot and tight around him while he sucked him in deep and stayed there, throat muscles working while he wrapped his arms around Dean’s hips, hands sliding up his back to press him even closer. He swallowed around him for longer than seemed possible, until Dean was sweating with the effort of not grabbing Sam’s ears and fucking his throat raw, then pulled back to bob his head in a syncopated rhythm expressly designed to tease Dean right to the edge without being regular enough to push him over. He stretched one arm to grope for the lube on the night stand and passed it to Sam, watched Sam’s face go all lax while he slicked up his fingers and slid them inside, getting himself ready for Dean. It always came down to a battle of wills--how long Dean could hold off versus how badly Sam wanted to get fucked--and it went on longer every time, until Sam was whimpering, moaning, tongue twisting with every trick he knew while Dean bit out a steady stream of filth. “Yeah, Sammy, want it so bad, don’t you--”

Sam moaned and moved faster, hips rocking back onto his fingers.

“--look at you, fucking that tight little ass ‘cause you can’t wait until I’m fucking it for you, love it, don’t you, fuck, Sam, gonna fuck you so good--”

Sam pulled away with a gasp, giving Dean about half a second to congratulate himself before clambering past him onto the bed, braced on his hands and knees. “Come on, Dean, do it, come on--”

The last word cut off in a grunt as Dean shoved in. Sam shuddered and sank down onto his elbows, head dropping between his shoulders as Dean slid over all the right places. He twisted until he could look back, face smashed against the bedding, and watched through slitted cat’s eyes as Dean rocked into him with a sweet, even rhythm.

“ _Harder._ ”

Dean’s mind went blank for a second, then he shoved in so hard that Sam shot forward, barely catching himself before he hit the headboard. He jerked his hips in a series of shallow thrusts that left Sam gasping, then slowed, pulling out until just the tip remained inside, caught in Sam’s spasming muscles, then slamming forward, over and over, making sure Sam felt every last inch.

“This what you had in mind, Sammy?”

In response Sam reared up on his knees, bracing against the headboard and wall so he could fuck Dean back, hips rolling to center them right on target. The angle meant he couldn’t go quite as deep but he didn’t mind since it put all that skin on display, right in front of him. Dean could never get enough of Sam’s back; he loved the way Sam shivered when he slanted his mouth across his shoulders, tasting traces of sugar and salt mixed in with the taste of _Sam_ , strong and healthy and completely his, no demon blood, no ghosts of anyone in his eyes, just Sam, Dean’s Sam.

He was sweating so much his shirts were soaked through and he finally just yanked them off, leaving his jeans riding low on his ass. He knew the zipper would leave scratches all over Sam’s thighs but fuck it, the kid needed some new scars anyway.

Sam rocked back slow, twisting his hips until Dean’s eyes crossed, then suddenly started riding back fast and hard, sweet hot friction that sent tingles from the roots of Dean’s hair all the way down to his toes. He braced himself with a firm grip on Sam’s hips, holding steady, making sure they hit rock solid with every thrust and now Sam was whining, heavy head dropping down on his left arm while his right reached down so he could fuck his fist just as hard.

“Fuck, Dean,” he groaned, “gonna come.”

“Do it.” He wrapped his arm around Sam’s chest so he’d have a free hand to cup his sac where it was drawn up tight against his body, palming it so he could feel the exact second when Sam lost it in shuddering spurts that stayed puddled on the covers, the material too cheap to let it soak in.

He released himself to brace both hands on the headboard, hips working in determined rhythm. “Come on, Dean, do it,” he hissed, just this side of begging.

“Not yet.” Sam was still hard and he wrapped his hand around him, messy with his release. “Come, Sam.”

“W...what? Dean, I just _did_.”

He kept stroking, not letting Sam go soft. “Again.”

“I can’t--”

“You can.”

He pulled almost all the way out, then added a finger when he shoved back in, stretching Sam even wider and pressing so hard on his prostate that he came again with a roar, spasming uncontrollably as the pressure and Dean’s grip milked him absolutely dry. There was a sharp crack as the headboard came apart in Sam’s hands, breaking free of the posts and that was gonna cost them but it was worth it to hear Sammy whimpering his name, over and over while he finally went soft in Dean’s loose fist. He couldn’t hold off any longer; he yanked his hips back and shoved Sam’s head down into the pillows, rapid strokes sending his come shooting all over Sam’s back, shoulders to waist, over and over until he thought he’d pass out.

Dean stared at the shining trails, too spent even to twitch, before he finally crashed onto his side, propping himself up just long enough to run his hands through the mess, rubbing it into Sam’s skin.

Sam grimaced but let him do it, too wiped out to do anything but stare at Dean from under his hair, and open his mouth when Dean fed him their come. He licked away every trace and went absolutely limp, both of them panting raggedly as they slowly regained their breath.

On the edge of sleep, Sam finally caught enough air to say, “I’m coming in your sauce next time, jerk.”

Dean snorted and started kicking down the covers so they could crawl underneath, knowing he’d have to leave a hell of a tip to make up for the mess. “You loved it, bitch.”

He meant, _I love you_.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam muttered, burrowing into the pillows. “You loved it, too.”


End file.
